Blizzard
by toastsnatcher
Summary: Ginny, Draco, Ron, and Hermione are all stuck outside during the worst blizzard at Hogwarts in 50 years. Can they survive? Can they keep their hands to themselves? More importantly, can they stay sane?
1. squabbles

Author's Note: I have developed a bit of a block with the Midnight Mix-Up story and have run out of Skittles, so I'm writing a different story now. Makes no sense, yes? I'll just say I'm taking a bit of a break from MMU. Haha. Mmmoooo . . . Rhymes with? Loo . . . Stew . . . Reviewwww . . . What subliminal messages?

Disclaimer: All but the exact plot and anything unfamiliar belong to JKR. sigh If only. The plot was loosely inspired by some chapters in "Roughing It" by Mark Twain. I didn't actually read the book, just chapters 32-33 in a collection of funny camping stories. So, here you go, my friends.

**(In the Charms corridor)**

"Hey, Weasley," said a mocking voice in Ginny's ear, making her jump. "I heard you got accidentally transfigured into a toad. Did you get it fixed, or do you just always look like that?"

Ginny felt her jaw muscles tighten involuntarily. "No, sorry, Malfoy, the rumors you hear are incorrect. It was YOU who was transfigured into a ferret two years ago, and sadly, you haven't changed since." She swallowed and concentrated on walking down the corridor to Charms, looking straight ahead of her. She was painfully aware of how lame she sounded but hopefully her forceful delivery would make her point for her.

Malfoy's lips curled into a sneer. "Hmm, someone's been practicing comebacks in the mirror. Or perhaps Scarhead's been giving you lessons."

Ginny nervously fingered a button on her robes and walked more quickly, trying to lose Malfoy. "Harry needs to give me lessons in comebacks just as much as you need to give him lessons in Quidditch_." Did that even make sense?_

"Oh, good, nasty comebacks come naturally for you, too? Just like helping the basilisk petrify other students, hmm? Or worshipping Potter?" Malfoy snorted in contempt, then wondered: _Did that even make sense?_

Ginny slipped her hand into her robes' pocket and muttered something unintelligible, then turned to see a very surprised Malfoy slip and fall face-first on the marble floors. "Oh, sorry, Malfoy, do you need a hand?"

Malfoy shot her a look of deepest loathing as he hoisted himself to his feet and ignored the snickering of his fellow sixth years. "I don't need a hand, I can slap you with my own, thanks." And with that he slapped Ginny across the cheek.

She stumbled sideways into a passing third year and shrieked, both hands flying to her stinging face. "Malfoy! You-" She called him all the names she'd ever heard Charley call Bill in her youth, while Malfoy stood there and smiled.

The corridor had fallen quiet at the sound of Malfoy's hand on Ginny's freckled flesh, and now nobody moved as they listened to exactly what Ginny thought of Malfoy. Giggles and whispers began to erupt all down the hall, until tiny Professor Flitwick emerged from his classroom to see who was yelling.

"I beg your pardon?" he gasped, astonished, as he listened to Ginny scream obscenities.

She blinked and took her hand from her cheek, suddenly realizing everyone had been listening to her for the past twenty or so seconds (which allowed a lot of nasty name-calling to occur). She cleared her throat and hid her freckles behind a bright pink flush. "Sorry, Professor, Malfoy was harassing me. He slapped me."

Flitwick's curly, white eyebrows shot up and he turned toward Malfoy. "Is this true, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy ran a hand through his blonde hair and sighed. "It's only as true as all those insulting names Weasley called me." Malfoy loved to test the teachers - to find the limit on their patience and see how well they handled his mocking tones. How far could he go?

"Definitely true, then," Flitwick said without hesitation, frowning. "Come into my classroom, you two. Everyone else - what are you staring at? Scurry off to your classes, boys and girls. What did Miss Weasley do to earn this slap, Mr. Malfoy?"

"She cursed me, Professor. Sent a tripping curse my way. Injured my Seeking arm."

The crowd showed signs of life and began to move, making little whispering sounds. It was rather like watching a sleeping monster awaken.

Ginny took a deep, shaky breath and walked into the Charms classroom behind Malfoy, imagining all the pointy objects she could conceivably stab into his back. She was going down the list - "thumbnails, scissors, stiletto heels" - when Flitwick asked the other students in the classroom to leave them for a bit. He sat down in his custom-made, small armchair while Ginny and Malfoy stood in front of his desk, as far apart as possible.

"I think both of you deserve adequate punishment," he squeaked. "In the form of detention. You will both serve your detention next Thursday evening on the Quidditch pitch. You will be reminded via owl next Wednesday so neither of you can conveniently forget."

If Ginny were a cat, her claws would have shot out of her paws and all the fur on her back would have arched up higher than her head. She seethed in anger.

"But - Professor - Malfoy's the one who slapped me, I just called him names and tripped him! Shouldn't he get a harsher punishment?" she pleaded. Malfoy rolled his eyes and leaned back against a desk casually.

"Well, Miss Weasley," said Flitwick, smiling mischievously, "serving detention with three Gryffindors is more of a punishment for Mr. Malfoy than it is for you, isn't it?"

Little creases appeared in Malfoy's porcelain forehead. "Three, Professor?"

"Three," Flitwick confirmed. "Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley had a bit of a, ah, skirmish in the corridors today. It must be the stress of mid-term exams upon us. Or perhaps the unusually cold weather. Whatever the case, it's time for class now, so take a seat, Miss Weasley. Off you trot, Mr. Malfoy." He waved Malfoy through the mahogany doors and welcomed the rest of the Charms class in.

"We will be practicing silencing charms today," Flitwick announced as Ginny sank into her seat, still angry.

__

Stupid Malfoy, slapping me like that. So immature. So - so mean! Slapping girls in the corridors . . . And now we get the exact same detention . . . I wonder what Ron and Hermione did?

**(Rewind two hours, switch to hallway outside the Potions classroom)**

"Ron," said Hermione in her I'm-going-to-start-a-lecture voice, "you shouldn't have teased poor Neville like that. Honestly, he's already got a lot on his plate!" She lowered her voice so only Ron and Harry could hear. "What with his parents' murderer and all. Besides, he's in the Order, too!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Just because someone's in the Order doesn't mean they're not a git. Look at Snape, for example. He-"

Hermione clapped her hand over his mouth and Harry hissed at him to shut up: "D'you want to get us killed? Remember the _spies_, Ron?"

Ron removed Hermione's hand from his mouth, ignoring the sweet taste of her lotion she left behind on his lips. "Guys, seriously," he said in a lower tone, "stop being so freaking paranoid. You honestly think there are spies here?"

His new word was "freaking" or "freakin'" - he'd picked it up from Bill over the summer. It was now winter, and his friends were getting annoyed with him.

Harry's eyebrows descended and he flashed Ron a dark look as they emerged from the dungeons. "Ron. You can't be too careful. Just watch your big mouth, all right?"

He was peeved because of his friend again. Everyone had been annoying him no end, but he still hadn't told anyone why he felt so stressed. _They_ didn't know he was definitely a marked man. _They_ didn't know he had to commit murder or else be murdered. Nobody understood . . .

"Harry," began Hermione sweetly, gently placing a hand on his elbow, "it's all right. He knows, right, _Ron_?"

"I'll be the judge of whether I freakin' know or not," said Ron gruffly, folding his arms across his chest in a surly manner and pausing mid-step. "Would you quit speaking for me?"

Hermione turned to Ron, eyes ablaze. "Ron! This is not the time for a self- rights discussion!"

"Oh, but it's always the time for ELF-rights discussions with you!" growled Ron, deliberately touching Hermione's one exposed nerve. He hadn't spoken about S.P.E.W. in a couple weeks, having been the victim of a mild fingernail attack from Hermione last time.

She let go of Harry quickly and whirled around to face Ron, glaring up at him. "When will you ever learn to _shut up_ and respect other people?"

"The minute you give up on _spew_!" Ron spat out, his voice nearly reaching yelling point. Suddenly it was about more than S.P.E.W.

"Then I guess you mean _never_!" Hermione bellowed. "Because the minute I give up on S.P.E.W. is the minute you stop moping about being Harry's stupid sidekick!"

Harry had been quietly watching up until this point, but he knew he'd have to interfere as soon as his name was mentioned. He was a bit surprised to hear Hermione scream out Ron's insecurities to the entire school, and even more surprised to hear exactly what Ron's insecurities were. He should've guessed that Ron hadn't really gotten over his jealous spat in fourth year.

"Ron! Hermione! Would you quit fighting?" he said through his teeth, his voice strained. "Everyone is listening - let's go to the common room-"

"Harry, stay out of this," ordered Ron, whose face was shining bright and red. He shifted his furious gaze back to Hermione. "Look, little miss know-it-all, I've been trying to tolerate your stupid spew but I can't take it anymore! Would you for _once_ in your _life_ get your freakin' _buck teeth_ out of your freakin' _books_ and be _normal_ for once!"

"Like I could be normal with twits like you hanging around me!" Hermione screamed, choosing to ignore the crowd of fifty, which had paused to hear the argument. "Every bloody hour of every bloody day! 'Hermione, can you do my homework for me? Hermione, could you write down all my problems for me? Number one: I'm poor as dirt but too proud to admit it! Number two-' "

Ron interrupted. "Number two: Hermione's such a freaking bossy show-off, I'm afraid I'll lose all control and strangle her! I-"

"What," said a very scary voice from behind Ron, "is going on here?"

"Just an argument between friends, sir," said Hermione immediately, remembering where she was and dropping her voice to a normal tone. "Nothing serious, Professor."

"Oh, but it _is_ serious," said Professor Snape, smiling grimly. "Interhouse relations are bad enough, but when two students of the same house are yelling at each other . . . I think Dumbledore would be behind me on this decision."

"What decision?" snapped Ron.

"You'll want to be more polite, Weasley. That's twenty points from Gryffindor."

"What decision do you mean, Professor Snape?" said Ron through clenched teeth.

"That's more like it," said Snape, sneering. "You and Miss Granger have detention next Thursday evening. You will be notified next Wednesday. Good day." He swept out of the hall, black robes billowing threateningly behind him.

Harry stepped out from behind the pillar, where he'd hidden as soon as he saw Snape. "Bad luck, you two," he said, trying to mask his grin. He found it amusing that they'd gotten detention from Snape and he hadn't – it had to be some sort of record for the trio.

Ron scowled. "Oh, shut up." He gave Hermione a miffed sort of look, then veered off down the hallway to the Divination tower. Harry said good-bye to Hermione apologetically, then followed Ron.

**(Fast-forward: Next Wednesday morning. Skip to Great Hall.)**

"Ginny, you okay?" asked Harry as he watched her butter her toast (she'd been buttering it for the past fifteen minutes).

"Huh? Oh, nothing, I have detention tonight. You know, with Ron and Hermione," replied Ginny, taking a bite of her toast and gagging on the amount of butter she'd absentmindedly spread on it.

"You do? I didn't know that," said Harry interestedly, shooting Ron and Hermione a dirty look. They'd been giving each other the cold shoulder all week long and he was sick of it. "I wonder what you'll be doing."

"We're getting an owl about it," Ginny informed him. "And we have detention with Malfoy, too."

"_What_!" cried Ron, attracting several glances. "How?"

Ginny bit her lip and shut her eyes, counting to three slowly before opening them. "We had a bit of a . . . _disagreement_ last Friday in the Charms corridor. I didn't want to tell you since you were all caught up with - er - homework and Quidditch."

She had almost said "the Hermione thing" but figured it wasn't the best thing to say. _Shoot, I hope I don't have to tell him Malfoy slapped me . . . It's embarrassing enough last Friday in that hallway, but if Ron finds out . . ._

Ron set his bagel down slowly, pausing mid-bite. "What. Happened."

"It's nothing," said Ginny quickly. "Really, just the usual stuff, and Flitwick gave us both detention. Something on the Quidditch pitch. I hope we're not trimming it with nose-hair clippers or anything, ha, ha." _Don't ask me about the argument. Don't ask me about the argument._

"What did he say, Ginny," said Ron, swallowing a giant bite of bagel. "Tell me this instant. Did he hurt you? Did he make fun of you? I swear, I'm gonna-"

"Snog me senseless?" came an amused voice behind Ron. Ron twisted around, sending his leftover bagel flying into Neville.

"No," said Ron defiantly, too flustered to think of a proper comeback. "What do _you_ want, Ferret-face?"

"Would you like me to make you a list? Number one-"

Ron blushed, knowing Malfoy was referring to his and Hermione's argument the past Friday. "Shut up. Why are you at our freakin' table?"

"Merely to deliver the letter about our freakin' detention, Weasel," Malfoy replied smoothly, drawing the letter from inside his robes and tossing it contemptuously at Ron, who fumbled and dropped it in his lap. Malfoy snorted and glided away to join Crabbe and Goyle, laughing.

"Git," muttered Harry for Ron's benefit, knowing his friend was supremely embarrassed. "What's it say, Ron?"

Ron sighed. " 'Mr. Malfoy, Mr. R. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Miss Weasley: Your detention will be served tomorrow night on the Quidditch field at nine o'clock. You will be cleaning and polishing the goal posts, Quidditch balls, and the school brooms. It is recommended that you wear your winter robes. Signed, Professor McGonagall.' Crap."

"Professor McGonagall signed it 'crap'?" asked Neville, confused. No one bothered to answer him.

Hermione raised her eyebrow and delicately poured herself a glass of milk. Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm not the one who deserves this."

Hermione set the milk pitcher down with a loud thunk, glared hard at Ron, then stalked off to the common room. Harry sighed and turned to face Ron. "Can't you just be nice?"

Ron stared at the full glass of milk Hermione had left behind. "No. You heard what she said last week." He cast Harry a sideways glance, then buried himself in bagels and cream cheese again.

Ginny and the surrounding Gryffindors watched this interaction in silence. She wondered what Hermione had said about Ron that was so bad.

She and Ron had, in the past three years (she was a fifth-year now), grown apart. She no longer told him all her secrets, and he still treated her like a second year. Perhaps she had betrayed his trust when she was in second year with the whole Tom Riddle thing . . .

But none of her other brothers had ignored her so much, and then become overprotective when other males came into the picture. _Sigh. Brothers._

"So, anyway, Ginny," said Ron, turning back to Ginny, his mouth thankfully clear of bagel. "Tell me exactly why Malfoy is in detention with us."

Harry, who had heard a detailed account of the incident, gave Ginny a look. "Ginny, he has a right to know."

"And I've got a right to keep silent," answered Ginny calmly, wondering why she was - essentially - protecting Malfoy.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Ron. "He slapped her."

This produced several reactions.

Ginny: "Harry! Aurgh! I told you not to-"

Neville: "Who slapped who? What?"

Harry: "See, Gin, I told you he'd want to know."

Ron: "HE WHAT!!! F--- HIM!! That freakin' - AAUURGH!" _(Storms out of Great Hall.)_

Malfoy: _(Emerging from hiding place behind Ravenclaw table)_ "Well, that went well, didn't it?"

A/N: So the first chapter is basically everyone yelling at each other. It gets better, trust me.

It would be nice of you could tell me what you think. Also any suggestions are quite welcome.


	2. before detention

Author's Note: a HUGE, big, fabulous, wonderful "thank you" and a gigantic hug to ALL FOUR OF MY REVIEWERS! Whoo!!! You're my heroes! smothers in hugs

I hope this chapter makes ya wanna review me. Weenk, weenk.

This chapter was actually written around August. I just found it on my computer. So, here you are. Apologies if you were waiting for it.

**(Gryffindor common room, Wednesday evening)**

Ron was glaring daggers - no, gigantic axes - at the fire in the common room, a dark, vengeful look upon his freckled features. He breathed hard through his nose. "Ginny," he said finally, "are you planning on telling me exactly what transpired?" _Wow, that was a big word for me. Transpired . . . Gotta use that more often._

Ginny gave a quarter of a smile at her brother's newfound big word, then returned to her thoughts. She'd been pondering, for the last few minutes as she pretended to read her magical fungi textbook, what to tell Ron when he asked why Malfoy had slapped her.

"Well," she began, "he began to make snide comments about me, and our family, and Harry, so I just lost it and sent a tripping spell in his general direction." She waited for Ron to snort with laughter, and was satisfied when he did so. "He dropped all his books, and so I said all innocently, 'Why, Malfoy, do you need a hand?' or something like that." _Now what to say._ "And he replied something about not needing mine when he can slap me with his own, and boom! Slapped."

"And then?"

"So then I completely lost it and began calling him everything from a snot-nosed Slytherin jerk to heartless, snake-like spawn of demons. Or something like that." Ginny blushed a little. "I was pretty mad."

"And then?"

"Then Flitwick comes along and tosses us in detention, and Malfoy smirks and leaves all haughtily." She glanced over at Harry, who was also listening with rapt attention. She'd been able to convince herself, last year, that she was wholly over him, but those green eyes still put little butterflies hopelessly flapping about in her stomach. She decided to play the poor-slapped-Ginny card. "My neck – it still kind of hurts. I think the - the impact of his hand did something to my neck joints."

Harry looked troubled. "Maybe Hermione has a spell to relieve neck pains. Hermione?" he proceeded to explain Ginny's predicament to the mound of parchment at the nearest table.

Ginny sighed inaudibly. _You could have offered to massage my neck. _Then she remembered that she was completely over him, and shook herself. She looked at Ron, who was gripping the armrests of his plush chair so hard his knuckles not only turned white, but cracked loudly and caused all the veins in his hand to stick out and turn a sickly shade of purple.

"Ron," sighed Ginny, knowing what he was thinking. "I can fight my own battles, you know. You don't have to beat up big, bad Malfoy for me."

"I know I don't have to," said Ron through clenched teeth, "but I so, _so_ want to right now. Freaking jerk."

"Don't do anything rash or reckless, now, Ron," the small mountain of parchment reminded Ron.

"Oh, well, excuse me Miss Homework, I was just about to freakin' pound him into a pulp and then earn myself expulsion." Ron was still bitter toward Hermione for yelling those insults in the hallway the previous week.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Listen to your sister, Ron. You heard the girl. Stay out of it for now." _Good Lord, I sound freakishly sensible. I ought to be planning Malfoy's unfortunate, painful demise with Ron instead of obeying Ginny's orders._

Ginny pursed her lips. _"Your sister?" "The girl?" I have a name, you know!_ It seemed as if the only people who knew her name were family members and boyfriends, if she had any at the given moment. However, she and Dean had broken up at the start of school after a big fight about something stupid. She had even forgotten what it was - _oh, yeah, I "accidentally" insulted the Richmond Rhinos. So stupid. Do all boys' minds consist of sports, girls, and fluff?_

"Gin? Ginny!" Ron looked at her expectantly.

"Unh?" she said intelligently.

"Do you happen to have a bit of rope, about six feet long?"

"Nunh," even more brilliantly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "He's just teasing you, Gin. Hermione and I'll try to keep him away from your 'battle' but we can't promise anything."

Since when did she have a battle? Oh, since she told Ron to keep out of it. "I hope you lot aren't expecting me to, I don't know, 'get even' with Malfoy, are you?"

"Heck, yeah!" came Ron's enthusiastic reply. "And not just at the next Quidditch match!"

Ginny was a Chaser. "No, that's Harry's job, he's our Seeker. Just . . . Ron, I don't want confrontation with this guy. He's not worth my time. I don't want to talk to him, I don't want to listen to you complain about him, I don't even want to see his pointy little face. 'Kay?"

She swept off toward the girls' dormitory and left Ron behind her, slack-jawed. "Did you hear that girl?" he asked incredulously. "Not get even! What does she think she's playing at?"

If, however, Ginny wasn't going to talk to Malfoy or see his apparently angular, fine-boned face, she was going to be a very happy girl.

**(Thursday morning. On her way to the bathrooms between third and fourth classes.)**

Ginny hurried past the formerly Forbidden Corridor made a beeline for the end of the hallway, where it forked. She turned the corner and, surprise, surprise, nearly collided with the very person she had vowed to never set eyes upon again. He was, luckily, not followed by his usual fan club.

"Watch it, punk," he hissed, almost slamming into the wall to avoid her, before he realized who it was. "Oh, it's _Weasley_. How's your face today? Did 'ickle Harry Potter kiss your boo-boo gone?"

__

Not up to his usual standards. That was kind of lame. "My face is just fine. Thank you for your well-placed, sincere concern." _That was kind of lame too._ Ginny flushed at the sight of Malfoy's grin.

"Yes, it _was_ well-placed, just like the hand that slapped you yesterday, wouldn't you agree?"

The corner of Ginny's mouth twitched upwards. "Yes, I would agree." She saw his eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch. "Too bad you don't have the same aim out on the Quidditch pitch." _Touché!_ He'd never won a game against Harry.

As quickly as his eyebrows had risen, they descended near the vicinity of his nose. "You filthy little beggar," he growled, drawing stares from passing students. "How dare you insult me to my face-"

"Well, it _was_ kind of hard, it was so ugly I nearly couldn't bring myself to-" She'd gone too far.

He drew out his wand, but Ginny was already halfway down the hallway, sprinting. At last she'd reached her senses. The infamous redhead temper had flared to life like a cobra being charmed by the music of the pointy-faced blonde boy. No one else could make her this angry. _Or spark such intelligent comebacks_, she congratulated herself.

She suddenly felt a piercing pain in her palms, and realized she'd been digging her nails into her skin as she clenched her fists. She unfurled her fingers and saw she had drawn blood.

Swearing, she veered off into her original destination, the bathroom, and washed her hands as best she could. She was about to leave when she heard a snuffling sound from one of the stalls, and realized it was a stifled sob. She frowned and double-checked to make sure this wasn't Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Er - are you okay in there?" she inquired, concerned.

Sniffff. "Ginny? Is that you?" someone blubbered thickly.

"Y-yes . . ." answered Ginny unsurely, not recognizing the voice. There was a click and a squeak, and the third stall's door swing open to reveal Hermione perched atop the toilet, eyes puffy and squinting. She rested her feet - which were in dainty Mary-Janes - on the toilet seat. Ginny gasped. "Hermione! What's wrong?"

Ginny had never been her best friend, but Hermione knew she was a friend nonetheless. "Oh, it's just your brother . . ." She ripped off a bit of toilet paper and honked her nose into it, then dropped it below her into the toilet bowl where several dozen were already piled. It looked like a horrible clogging just waiting to happen.

"Ron? Oh, what's he done now? Is this about last week?" Ginny asked gently, leaning on the doorframe to the stall.

"Yes. And no. He's just . . . He's not talking to me anymore, hardly, at least not the way he used to, and he won't forgive me. I've said I was sorry but he turned the other way, and I feel so horrible." Hermione wiped her eyes, frowning as she saw her light eyeliner had come off onto her fingers.

"You said you were sorry?" Ginny gasped before she could stop herself. Hermione Granger may have been a sensible person, but she never, ever apologized. Partly because she was always in the right and had nothing to apologize for, but mostly because she was so stubborn.

Hermione chuckled. "Yeah, I did. But he just gave me this weird look and took off in the other direction."

Ginny frowned. "Well - I hope you don't mind my asking - but what did you say that made him so mad?"

The older girl looked ashamed, and hid her eyes in her hands. The answer came out muffled. "Well, I told him to stop bugging Neville. And then we had the usual spat about S.P.E.W., which normally isn't so bad, but then I said something stupid about him being sad about being Harry's sidekick all the time. And then I told him off for always copying off me. And for complaining about being poor, but being too proud to really admit it or ask for help or something, and . . . And I think that wraps it up." Sniffffffff.

Ginny's eyes had widened. That sounded unusually mean for Hermione, who usually kept a civil tongue at all times. "Oh, Hermione . . ."

Snifffffffff. "He said some stuff back at me, about S.P.E.W., and my teeth, and being buried in books all the time. And the usual bossy show-off bit. But before he could say anything really mean, Snape came along and gave us detention." Sniffffffffffffffffffff.

"You'd better prepare a speech or something, because a simple 'I'm sorry' ain't gonna cut it," Ginny said softly. "I think you pushed all his buttons. No wonder he's so angry."

**(Sixth year boys' dormitory. 7:30 Thursday evening.)**

Malfoy (A/N: oh, all right, let's call him Draco) ahem DRACO sank down on his bed, his temples throbbing unpleasantly. He'd been in a bad mood all day from the moment that stupid little Weasley had nearly squashed him flat and then proceeded to lash out at him with her quick tongue.

Scarhead talking back to him was acceptable. It was expected. Tag-along Redhead, perhaps, could talk back, too, provided he didn't have slugs dribbling down his front. The Bucktooth had a nasty side, too - he cringed, remembering when she'd slapped him in third year. However, the smallest Weasley was a different matter. Well . . .

Girls slapping boys were one thing. But the other way around. . . Draco suddenly felt a small tightening in his stomach. _He'd hit a girl_. Never before had he lost it completely and laid a harmful finger on a female. Evil though he preferred to think himself to be, there were some things you just didn't do, and one of them was slapping girls.

He suddenly grinned at himself as he drew out his textbooks and began to read his Potions assignment. _How many names did that little Weasley call me last week? I think I lost count after seventeen adjectives . . ._

His grin disappeared the moment he realized he'd have to spend the evening polishing old Comet Two-Sixties with three Gryffindors, all of whom were probably feeling quite murderous toward him at the moment. _Ah, well,_ he consoled himself, _I'll take my wand with me just in case._

The moment this thought occurred to him, a light tapping at the window announced the arrival of a haughty-looking Hogwarts Owl. Draco removed the bit of parchment from its foot and it immediately flew off again, leaving him to read the note in silence. He groaned.

"All Students in Detention on Thursday, December 30th: I regret to inform you that, for your detention this evening, no wands will be allowed due to concerns about students' personal safety, so please leave your wands in your dormitory. Also, be sure to wear extra-warm robes, as it appears a light snowfall is to be expected. Mr. Filch will meet you all at the Front Door.

Signed, Professor McGonagall"

Draco cursed and peered out the window. It looked extremely dark. Inside the castle it was nice and warm, but when Draco touched the glass with his long, white fingers, he drew them back with a gasp. It was cold as ice.

He frowned in frustration. This rivaled his first year in the category of Worst Detentions, and he hadn't even set foot outside yet. At least they wouldn't be in the Forbidden Forest . . . Draco shuddered at the very thought. He hadn't admitted to anyone the existence of residual nightmares from that fateful detention.

He focused his eyes on the page of his Potions book in front of him. He tried to concentrate on curing boils, but Ginny's shocked face, reddened where his own hand had slapped her, kept interrupting his thoughts. Maybe he shouldn't have hit her. Food would make him feel better, he realized. Glancing at his watch, he discovered it was almost time for dinner.

Apologizing to her had occurred to him, but his pride struck down that option faster than he could say "I'm sorry, Ginny". Oh, well, he'd just have to deal with his guilt.

**(Great Hall, Gryffindor table. 8:30 Thursday evening)**

Ron leaned back in his seat, patting his stomach lazily in a satisfied sort of way. "Full - to - bursting," he informed his tablemates as he stretched and yawned.

Harry bit back a grin. "Good, you'll need the energy for that romantic date with Malfoy this evening."

Ron's lazy smile turned into a scowl. "Oh, don't remind me." He shot Harry a half-joking annoyed look. This was the first time in a long time that, when Ron had committed a crime worthy of punishment, Harry hadn't been involved (or even punished by accident).

Hermione heaved a sigh and set her fork and knife on her plate at perpendicular angles, remembering her manners school years before Hogwarts. She was feeling miserable again, and looked it. Bags drooped beneath her eyes, and she hadn't even bothered to pull her hair back. It framed her face in one big fuzzball, but she was more concerned with Ron and his unwillingness to forgive her.

Harry was in a state of denial and tried to ignore the friction between his two best friends. Instead, he indulged in a discussion about the Wronski Feint with Lavender Brown, who had suddenly taken a liking to Harry. He didn't mind; he was surprised at how much she knew about Quidditch.

Ginny, ignored again as usual, sat next to her semi-friend Nicole and stared at her food. The turkey looked a little undercooked. _Like Malfoy's face._ The cranberry sauce was a deep red. _Like my own face probably was after he slapped me._ The mashed potatoes were pushed to the side of her plate in a sad, deflated heap. _Oh, no, it's going to snow tonight, I just know it_. She tilted her head up to the Great Hall's ceiling and, judging from the lack of visible stars, heavy clouds crowded the sky. _Perfect. Off to freeze my butt off with the Amazing Bouncing Ferret._

**(Great Hall, Slytherin table. 8:32 Thursday evening)**

Draco twiddled his thumbs and stared idly across the table at Pansy's necklace. It was shaped like a snowflake. _Oh, lovely. Snowing tonight. Perfect, off to freeze my butt off with my favorite Gryffindors._ He suddenly realized that the patch of pale skin beneath the pendant was growing longer and that Pansy thought he was staring at her chest. She was slowly opening the front of her robes -

"Aaauugh!" Draco blinked violently, possibly scarred for life. "I, uh, have Potions homework," he said vaguely to anybody who happened to be listening (nobody). He sped off through the doors and down various secret hallways to the Slytherin common room, where he bundled up in his expensive winter robes.

__

Well, he thought as he whirled around the corner and into the front room of the castle, _this ought to be loads of fun._


	3. the blizzard moves in

A/N: I'm reviving this story. It died a quick death, but I'm bringing it back to life. We couldn't let Draco keep on feeling guilty about Ginny, now, could we? No, of course not.

**(Outside the Quidditch Field, 8:58 PM)**

Ginny's breath curled up smokily in front of her face. It was –

"Freakin' cold," Ron mumbled as he vigorously rubbed his icy cheeks.

"It's just too bad your secondhand robes are about as thin as toilet paper," said Draco from where he stood off to the side. His voice wasn't as snappy and biting as it usually was, mostly because he still felt a little knot of guilt in his abdomen. _Apologize! – No! I can't, I just -_

"Yeah, we don't all have rich Death-Eater fathers who spoil us rotten," replied Ron rudely.

Draco said nothing, but his face darkened at the mention of his father. Lucius had been thrown into Azkaban after Rita Skeeter had interviewed Harry last year. All Draco knew was that Lucius had broken out of his prison, but beyond that – nothing. It had been a weird summer and first semester; usually his father was such a prominent figure in his life, but he hadn't seen him in around eight months.

"What?" spat Ron after a moment. He was angry with Hermione, and some of his viciousness begged to be taken out on Malfoy. "Ashamed of your yellow-bellied father?"

"If anyone should be ashamed of their father, it's you, Weasel," replied Draco, smoothly hitting two birds with one stone – he served up a sure insult while avoiding acknowledgment of how he felt about Lucius.

"Why? Because he knew the truth the whole time? Because he's been promoted to an important place in the Ministry?" Ron was proud of his dad.

"What, Chief Executive of Gutter-born, Muggle-obsessed - "

"Shut up, both of you," snapped Ginny wearily. She'd watched their argument for a few minutes, but it was getting old by now.

"Hello, Madame Hooch," said Hermione loudly as the professor approached them.

"Hello, students. Bit nippy, isn't it? _Expelliarmus_!" she cried suddenly. Nothing happened. "Good, I see you've all left your wands in your dormitories. Thank you for obeying the announcement. Come now, into the Quidditch pitch. You've got all your cleaning supplies, and things to clean, good, I see Mr. Filch has set it all up . . ."

She let them in, explained in detail what to do and how to clean the Quidditch supplies, then retired to the seats by the side of the field, where she watched them clean.

Ginny began to disinfect the broom handles with a sizzling sort of potion. It was a mindless task – pour potion onto rag. Wipe rag along broom handle. Wipe broom handle with clean rag. Set aside. It wasn't terrible.

Ron started to clip stray twigs off the end of the brooms. The thin branches scraped painfully against his cold, too-dry hands. This was terrible.

Hermione was polishing the Quaffles. Who knew that the school had over two dozen Quaffles? After only two, they began to feel heavy and bulky in her hands. Not to mention the fact that it had begun to snow slightly, and small droplets of ice-cold water collected at the back of her neck. Oh, well, it was terrible, but it was better than, say, looking for dead unicorns in the Forbidden Forest.

Draco was delegated to the task of cleaning the Bludgers. All bloody 28 of them. _Why_ did Hogwarts have twenty-freaking-eight Bludgers? Stupid Gryffindors took all the better tasks and he was stuck getting the air knocked out of him as he tried to subdue them enough to polish them. He'd take being a bouncing ferret any day over this - this was bloody TERRIBLE.

Madame Hooch yawned. "It's time for a caffeine buzz," she decided. She looked at the four hunched-over students on the field. _Hmm_, she thought, _they seem to be doing all right. They don't have any wands, either. I'm sure they'll be fine._ "Students," she called out. They stopped and looked up at her, miserable in the light snowfall. "I'm going to nip off to the castle – there's something I need to take care of – I'll be right back. No _funny business_, now. I will be _right back_ in just a few moments." She walked hurriedly out of the stadium and into the castle, eagerly anticipating her usual nightly black coffee.

"Well," said Ron as they watched her run into the warm halls of Hogwarts, "that's freakin' cold-hearted. Leaving us out here in the freezing cold."

"It's _so_ cold," whined Ginny. "I'm getting snow in my shoes." They were her favorites, too – ankle-high, brown leather boots. George had sent them to her as a Happy Winter present. And now they were getting wet in the light snow.

"They shouldn't make us do detention in the snow," grumbled Draco who, even through five layers of the most insulating fabric Galleons could buy, couldn't feel his extremities. "I'm an effin' ice cube." He glanced over at Ginny, who snickered. Her cheeks were a rosy pink. The cold seemed to suit her, even though her teeth were chattering.

"Well, the sooner we get this all finished and cleaned, the sooner we can go inside," said Hermione in a reasonable voice. Truth was, she was freezing her butt off too, and the bright stadium lights gave her little blind spots whenever she blinked.

The other three opened their mouths to argue against this, realized she was right, and then set to rigorously scrubbing the Quidditch supplies.

Ten minutes later, however, the snow was coming down extremely hard. It was no longer a "light snowfall" – it was becoming a full-on blizzard. The snowflakes were whizzing down from the heavens, still frozen hard from their formation in the dark clouds above. They pelted the four students, who found the whole situation extremely unpleasant.

"Is she ever coming back?" groaned Ginny. The wind had picked up and was wreaking havoc with her hair, which she hadn't bothered to tie back.

"What?" called Ron from where he stood hunchbacked, clipping broom twigs. "Can't hear you!"

"_D'you think Madame Hooch is ever coming back!_"

"Don't know," replied Ron in an even louder voice lest his words were drowned out by the wind. "Looks like a blizzard, eh?" His hair had become icy and stiff and his lips were a lovely shade of periwinkle.

"Screw this!" yelled Draco suddenly, clamping a particularly aggressive Bludger into the trunk of Quidditch balls. "I'm going inside, I can't take this anymore!"

"I'm coming with you," said Hermione, dropping the Quaffle and rag.

Draco looked surprised. "Oh . . . kay." He marched to the entrance of the field and threw his weight against the gate. It didn't budge.

"Must be blocked by snow," offered Ron, who had followed, too. "Look at the bottom, it's snowed about three inches already."

Draco tried again, and this time Ron threw himself at the gate, too. Ginny even joined in but it was definitely not going to move.

"Think it's frozen shut?" Ginny panted.

"I'll bet she locked us in," said Hermione. "Bet she thought we'd try to escape."

Draco could see the reasoning in this. "I reckon you're right, Bucktooth," he conceded. "No way in hell I'm staying in here, though," he added fiercely. He could no longer feel anything at all.

Ginny watched with interest as Draco clambered up onto the spectator seats, then prepared to jump over the back wall. She saw him look down, hesitate, twitch, and then come back down onto the field.

"Thirty foot jump," he explained grudgingly in response to the girls' questioning looks.

Ron emerged from under the bleachers. "No way out under there, either," he yelled over the screaming wind.

Ginny wrapped her arms around herself. It was now _painfully_ cold. Bitter cold, she could stand; but painful cold was extremely difficult to bear. Especially with the blizzard beginning to bear down on them. "Let's get under the bleachers anyway," she said.

"What?" yelled Ron. The wind had increased in volume and speed, nearly knocking him over.

"Let's get under the bleachers!" she yelled. "Shelter from snow! And wind!"

Suddenly, the magical stadium lights shut off, apparently not strong enough to withstand such a snowstorm. They plunged the field into darkness. It was now difficult to see five inches in front of their faces.

Ron yelled out obscenities. "This just gets worse and worse, doesn't it!" he screamed.

"Follow me under the bleachers!" Ginny shouted. "_Follow! Me!_"

Someone grabbed her elbow. She began to walk slowly toward where she remembered the bleachers being.

"Where are they?" she yelled to whomever was holding onto her. "Ron? Hermione? Where are the bleachers?" It seemed as though they'd been walking forever. She felt blind.

"Right in front of you," replied Draco into her ear from right behind her.

Ginny felt a tiny electric shock as she realized Draco was grasping her so closely, but got over it. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" Her voice was growing hoarse. She began to panic when nobody replied, but then was almost knocked over.

"Oof – sorry – Ginny?" said Ron's voice. He could barely make out his sister in the blackness.

"Come on," Hermione's voice yelled ahead of them. "I'm under the bleachers! Follow my voice if you can't see me!" She began to shake uncontrollably as she held up the green and silver tarp that decorated the field-side front of the Slytherin bleachers.

At last they made it to their destination. The blizzard had moved in fully now, dumping about a foot of snow onto the field. Some snow filtered in through the stadium seats above them, and there was a bit of a wind tunnel effect in there, but it was definitely preferable to being out in the middle of the field. The decorative tarp on either side of the bleachers kept out most of the wind.

"_Sweet Mother of Merlin!_" burst out Draco. "That was bloody hard!"

Ginny giggled in spite of the situation. His voice had come from the ground. Sitting was a very good idea, decided Ginny, who couldn't feel her legs. She sat, or rather, collapsed. The snow crunched under her and began to melt; the wet snow chilled her rear end.

"It's freakin' freezing," moaned Ron, whose ears felt like they'd fallen off. He heard Ginny sitting and decided to join her on the ground.

"Time for a body-heat huddle," said Hermione bossily. "Get over yourself if you feel awkward. Come on, scootch close together."

Ginny certainly felt awkward as she inched toward everyone with her knees bent up to her chin. No one could see anything and kept bumping into other people and mumbling embarrassed apologies.

"Good enough," said Hermione in an exasperated sort of voice.

"No need to hang all over me, Weasley," drawled Draco amusedly, who felt he'd been lacking in his trademark Malfoy insults as of late.

"I am not!" protested both Ron and Ginny loudly.

"Well, whichever one of you it is, you can stay after all, you're warming up my arse quite nicely," Draco added.

Everyone suddenly flinched away from each other.

"For goodness' sake!" shrieked Hermione. "Look, I don't care who or what I'm touching but I'm so cold I could skin a hippogriff for its coat!"

"Do you think Hooch is coming back?" asked Ginny, who suddenly felt the terror of the situation. They were trapped in a blizzard. With Malfoy. Who happened to be less than a foot away from her, possibly _touching_ her.

"Not in this blizzard," said Draco in a scratchy voice. "Unless she came with her own personal fifty-foot blowtorch."

"There's got to be a way to rescue us," groaned Ron over the sound of the shrieking wind.

"Sometimes," said Hermione in a quiet voice, "even magic can't conquer snowstorms."

Her statement seemed to declare the hopelessness of the situation. No one said anything, but instead huddled unconsciously closer together. It had suddenly become much colder.

A/N: Yay, progress! The newest chapter since November! I rock like none other.

I hope the last bits weren't terribly boring. It gets better later, there will definitely be snoggage, I promise you that. ;)


	4. out cold

Madame Hooch gulped down the rest of her coffee greedily, then set down her mug on the teachers' lounge table.

"Could that mug _be_ any bigger?" said Professor Snape, who was eyeing it from where he sat in front of the fireplace. He did have a point. It was over a foot tall. "Small children could live in that thing."

Madame Hooch sneered back at him over her mug. "Your date with Rosmerta didn't go well?"

Snape snarled in response, then glanced out the window. "Looks like the blizzard's picked up. Didn't you have some students doing detention out there? Wasn't Malfoy one of them? Wasn't it supposed to be a bloody _terrible_ snowstorm tonight - "

Madame Hooch sighed. "All right, all right, I'll go bring them inside. They can finish their detention later," she snapped at him.

Snape wordlessly watched her hurry out of the room. "I was just _saying_," he said defensively to no one in particular.

"Of course you were," said Sir Cadogan from where he stood leaning against the picture frame. "And Rosmerta was just '_saying_' that you 'kind of creeped her out'?"

Sir Cadogan had to run away, very quickly, to escape Snape's creative paint-peeling charm.

Meanwhile, Madame Hooch was trying to open the front doors. "Locked?" she muttered, perplexed.

Mr. Filch was passing by. "So no student tries to kill themselves in this weather," he said in a nasty sort of voice. "We, ah, had an _incident_ a couple years back, and Dumbledore's taking no chances this time. Worst snowstorm at Hogwarts in 50 years, you know."

"But I've got four students out there doing detention!" she protested.

He shrugged. "Better make sure they know a heat charm."

"They have no wands!"

"Well, then," he grinned sadistically, "they're in for a helluvanight, wouldn't you say?"

Madame Hooch was at a loss for words as he disappeared behind a hanging tapestry.

Draco felt duly punished for slapping Ginny. _Okay, already!_ He begged the gods. _Make it stop! I hate this snow! I'm sorry I slapped Ginny! For goodness' sake, it wasn't _that_ hard anyway – oh fine, have it your way!_

Hermione couldn't see in the dark, but she distinctly heard someone growling to himself angrily. She assumed it was Ron. "Is that your stomach, Ron?" she snapped, then immediately felt sorry. This was no time for arguments.

"May have been," Ron mumbled, making no effort to deny it. "I'm freakin' hungry. I could eat a house-elf." He waited for Hermione's backlash but none came. She was too cold.

Ginny's eyelids felt heavy. "Are we going to freeze out here?" she pondered aloud.

Draco opened his mouth to say something mean back, but his guilt consumed his insides once again. _I hit a girl! I hit a girl!_, a voice kept yelling in the back of his head. _Shut up!_, he bellowed in his mind, trying to quiet it. _Just my luck. Out here in the freezing snowstorm, with about fifty voices in my head._ It sure was loud inside his brain.

Nobody had answered Ginny. "D'you think Dumbledore knows we're out here?" she tried again, looking desperately for some form of comfort.

"Madame Hooch will have told him," said Hermione after a moment. She felt a little creepy – the tarp and woodwork around them dimmed the screaming noises of the wind, and it felt like they were in the eye of a hurricane.

"Madame Hooch sucks," burst out Ron suddenly, drawing a snort of derision from Draco.

"Glad to hear it," Draco replied. "You know what else sucks? Being out here in the effin' _freezing_ snow with three Gryffindors."

"At least no one's slapped you," growled Ron. "Unlike my _sister_!"

"Ron!" Ginny admonished, jerked awake by his loud voice. "Will you let it go?"

"No!" said Ron, a little louder, into the darkness. "For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, at least apologize. You _slapped_ a _girl_."

Draco's insides turned over. Should he apologize? Right now? But that would be at Ron's bidding, and he was far too proud to accept Ron's taunt. "I'll apologize when I feel sorry for it," he replied. He was lying – he'd felt sorry for it the second he realized he'd slapped Ginny.

Speaking of which, he wondered, why wasn't Ginny angry with him? She was certainly in a towering rage at the time, but she hadn't said a word to him all day.

Ginny was wondering this herself. Why _wasn't_ she mad at Draco?

"You're going to feel sorry for it," Ron said after a moment's pause, in which he had formulated his tough-sounding reply.

"What, you're going to punch me in the dark? You don't even know where I'm sitting," said Draco mockingly. "You might hit your kid sister by mistake. Then _she - _"

CRACK. Ron's knuckles collided with Draco's jaw.

"Bloody fu – Weasley!" Draco roared. His face seared with pain as he tried to get his jaw back into working order. He had been knocked almost flat on his back and he had to rock himself back into a sitting position.

"Like I can't tell where you're sitting. You've been whining next to me for the past half hour," huffed Ron. He felt suddenly exhausted – the spurt of energy he'd had to deck Draco was gone.

"Ron!" cried Hermione when she finally realized what had just happened. "You didn't just – my Lord, you're a _maniac_, you know that!"

Ginny heard all this unfold in front of her, and she sighed heavily. "Would everyone just _shut up_?" she hissed. "I have an effin' migraine."

Draco's eyebrow shot up. 'Effin'?' That was _his_ little word. Why, was the smallest Weasley emulating _him_? This thought was chased away by a new wave of pain in his jaw that came about when he involuntarily clenched it.

Everyone fell silent at Ginny's outburst. She felt thankful for this, but the sudden silence brought into sharp relief the dulled shrieking of the wind outside their little haven under the bleachers. It sounded awful, like a banshee turning inside out. She shivered, feeling – or rather, _not_ feeling – the numbness that had taken over her fingers and feet. Ice crystals had formed on her eyelashes. Her hands felt like lumps attached to her wrists – they were so cold and dry that it felt as though the skin was stretched too tightly over the bones. She tucked them into her cloak, but it was no good. Her back slumped over as weariness took a hold of her.

Beside Ginny, Draco tried to distract himself from his physical state by focusing on the guilty turmoil within him. That seemed worse than thinking about being cold, so he reverted to his usual body complaints. Nevertheless, his mind was plagued with confusion. _Why_ did he feel so guilty? He hit people probably every other day and felt no compunction until now. It was probably just because Ginny was a girl. But he also felt, in a weird way, that he was betraying himself, denying something. What was it? _(A/N: we all know what 'it' is, but sigh we have to let Draco find out by himself.)_

Hermione thought she had lost all sanity when she felt her hands creep over to Ron and grab hold of his fingers, but she felt better when he squeezed back. His hands were warmer than hers were. She felt a little awkward, but the temptation of warmth was too much, so she scooted closer to him.

Ron was a little taken aback at her forwardness and hoped it was Hermione next to him, but he smelled her familiar scent and let her inch closer to him. He knew she was probably freezing, and he had to admit, it _was_ a little nicer having a human body right up next to his own. Especially since it was Hermione. He squeezed her hands again, which were between his own large ones. Hermione's hands were very cold, colder than his own were.

"Is anybody bored?" came Draco's voice suddenly, interrupting Ron and Hermione's little hand-holding moment.

"What?" asked Hermione in disbelief. "We're out here, in the middle of a blizzard, and you're asking for entertainment?"

Draco shrugged, even though no one could see him in the pitch black. "Wouldn't mind it. Can anyone sing?"

Ginny roused herself from her near-comatose state. "Sing?" she asked blearily. "You want someone to _sing_ for you?"

"Or _with_ me, if you're embarrassed, Weasel."

"I'm not going to sing for you!"

"Oh, come on, I'm dying over here. I need something to take my mind off the fact that we're about to die."

"We're not '_about to die_'," corrected Hermione scathingly. Her breath tickled Ron's ear. "We're probably all going to have frostbite when we're rescued, but who cares? Madame Pomfrey can fix that."

"Do you suppose we'll get rescued soon, though?" asked Ginny. Her voice was hoarse and tired. She struggled to keep her eyes open. There was nothing to see in the dark, of course – but she knew that if she fell asleep, she might freeze to death.

"You've asked that ten times over, Gin," said Ron. "Nobody knows, okay?"

Draco cut in. "Why don't we play a _game_ or something, or tell me what tonight's Astronomy homework is, I don't understand Mercury at all - "

"Oh, shut up," said Ron bitterly. "We're not your slaves. If you're so bored, why don't _you_ sing for us, or something."

"Fine," said Draco, eager to make a point. "How about my newest rendition of 'Weasley is Our King'?"

"Fine with me," Ron shot back. "Although it's become more of a Gryffindor song now."

"Speaking of," said Draco, his tone changing and becoming oddly conversational (though perhaps this was an effect of the mind-numbing cold), "what exactly happened last year? All of a sudden you became this really good Keeper – and I mean that in the worst way possible – Did you get some sort of athlete's potion, or something?"

Ron was a little stunned. "N-no," he answered. "I just – ignored you guys, I guess. Focused on the game a little more."

Hermione smiled in the dark. Was she actually about to witness a civil conversation between Ron and Draco?

"Hm," said Draco thoughtfully, nodding out of habit since nobody could see anything. "And I'd thought that bewitching our badges to flash different colors would distract you."

"Did you really? Bewitch them, I mean? I never saw that," said Ron, who had begun to lean into Hermione.

"Oh, yeah, they were going crazy at that last match last year, I was surprised you lot didn't get on my case about that." It was surprisingly easy to talk to Ron. "Big improvement from our 'Potter Stinks' badges in Fourth Year."

Ron chuckled. "I bet Ginny noticed them, though – bet it confused her loads, all those shiny things when she was being the Seeker. You know, when Harry got DQ'd . . . Did it, Gin?"

No answer.

"Ginny, did it distract you? . . . Yo, Gin . . . Ginny? Hey, Ginny, where are you?" Ron's voice took on a concerned note.

"Maybe she's asleep?" offered Hermione.

Ron felt around worriedly for his sister. His fingers plunged into something squashy.

"Hey!" Draco cried. "That's me you're groping!"

"Ugh!" cried Ron, his hand flying back to him as though burned. "That's disgusting! Well - Ginny must be on your other side! Feel around a bit for her, would you? What if she's gone off or something and we didn't - "

"She's still here," said Draco, who had found her arm. "Not moving, though." He jiggled her arm around in an attempt to rouse her.

Hermione reluctantly detached herself from Ron and felt for Ginny. She felt Ginny's head, bowed over her curled-up knees. A glimmer of horror pulsed through her. "Good Lord, is she all right? Ginny? Ginny! _Ginny!_" She shook Ginny's shoulders.

Draco's heart had begun to hammer a bit when still no answer came. He felt his way down her cloaked arm to her wrist, then tried to find a pulse. "I can't feel a pulse!" he cried. Was it possibly to _die_ out here? -

"Your fingers are probably numb!" Hermione was trying to do the same thing with Ginny's other wrist. "I can feel a bit of a pulse . . . Try her neck, Malfoy."

Draco felt for her head – her chin – and placed two fingers on the side of her neck. He pushed a little deeper into her skin, and finally felt something. "I feel it," he said at last, extremely relieved. "Think she's out cold, or what?"

Ron was busy hyperventilating.

"Ron, calm down!" admonished Hermione. "All we need to do is keep her warm. Look, let's all - hug her or something, I don't know. We need to pack ourselves closer together so we don't _all_ end up unconscious. Here, Draco, you take the end, and we'll take turns being on the end. Turn around a little and put your arms around Ginny - "

It was an awkward arrangement, but the four students scooted themselves around until Hermione stopped bossing them around. They were all sitting either cross-legged or with their knees on either side of the person in front of them; it was like a single-file line, only they were sitting down, and they had their arms wrapped around the person in front of them. It felt like they were packed in a sardines tin. Draco was at the very end, his back exposed to the cold, with his arms around Ginny's middle. In front of the unmoving Ginny was Ron, who insisted that Hermione go in front of him because she was smaller and colder. Hermione protested until she felt Ron's warm arms around her.

"That's a little better, eh?" said Ron. "You all right back there, Malfoy?"

"Yeah - "

"No feeling up my sister! I'm serious!"

"Like I would!" called back Draco, who was probably beet red. The idea hadn't even occurred to him because he was so busy feeling embarrassed with his arms wrapped around the thin girl. He hoped his body heat would warm Ginny up; he could feel that she was cold through her robes. He set his chin down on her shoulder, trying unconsciously to blow warm breath on her stiff neck. He felt so out-of-place.

Meanwhile, Harry was in his dormitory. His jaw had dropped clear to the floor, as had the Marauder's Map. He couldn't believe what he had just seen on the Quidditch pitch area – four dots, labeled Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley – practically on top of each other!

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A/N: Ha, ha, I'd been waiting for Harry to get out his little map. So, what does everyone think? Please review me, even if you've left me a review before! I'd love to hear what you think. Suggestions are welcome! :) Thanks a bunch!

I'll reply to my two latest reviewers. I'm going to try to reply to all my reviews, partly because it's an incentive for you to review me but mostly because I appreciate what you have to say! A _lot_!

****

Storymind: You'll get your snoggage in due time – patience is a virtue, m'dear. ;) I don't know about Truth or Dare – that seems a little cliché – but they're definitely going to have some sort of heart-to-heart, since they're faced with imminent death (or so they think – dun dun dunnnn!).

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Professor Drusilla W.L.Silvers: Thanks a lot! Hey, I love your profile area. Very creative! And thanks for putting me on your faves list. 3


	5. keeping warm

Hermione was taking charge of the situation, being the "stubborn, bossy know-it-all" of the group. She was becoming almost hysterical in her attempts at leadership. "Okay," she said breathlessly. "We all need to keep talking to make sure none of us drifts off. I'm sure we'll be rescued soon - "

Ron suddenly cut in, his voice cracking with excitement. "What about the brooms?"

"What about them?" Hermione asked, a little annoyed that he had interrupted her.

"We could fly them out!" Draco gasped, cottoning on. "We could - "

"They're probably buried under five feet of snow by now," Hermione said irritably. "Unless you want to try digging through that, in the complete darkness, in the middle of a snowstorm . . ."

"Just an idea," Ron mumbled sulkily into her hair.

"It _was_ a good one," Hermione conceded. "But, as the circumstances stand . . . Hey, Draco, how's Ginny doing?"

"Getting a bit warmer," he answered. "Not awake, though. Think she's comatose, or something?"

"Try shaking her a bit," Hermione advised. "Or should we let her sleep?"

Draco knew nothing about medicine or first aid. "Let's see if we can wake her first," he said, attempting to sound authoritative. He tightened his arms around her and bounced her a bit. "Ginny! Ginny Weasley! Uhh, filthy Weasel-face! . . . OK, if that doesn't wake her, I don't know what will." He drew his hands out from his sleeves and felt for her face. It was startlingly cold, like marble. Her cheeks felt like ice. "Her face is freezing," he informed them.

"You're caressing her face?!" Ron began to hyperventilate again.

"Shut it, Weasley, I'm trying to find her pulse again," Draco growled. It was a lie, but he decided to make it the truth. He traced her jawline and slipped his fingers onto the side of her neck. "Someone count twenty seconds for me," he asked.

"I will," Ron said immediately. "One, two, th - "

"Not aloud, idiot! I'm feeling her pulse." Draco rolled his eyes. "Start . . . now."

Silence prevailed for twenty seconds.

"Twenty," Ron finished.

"Twelve beats," said Draco. "Is that slow - ?"

"Yes, that's only 36 beats per minute," said Hermione at once. "That's only a little over half the average heart rate when you're at STP and not running around or anything."

"STP?" Ron frowned.

"Standard Temperature and Pressure," replied Hermione automatically, her voice veiled in thoughtful worry. "Maybe we should try insulating her more. Goodness knows she has no body fat at all."

"I can go for a bit without my outer cloak," offered Draco.

"Well, aren't you the little hero," Ron said scathingly.

"Look, I'm just trying to help your little sister here - "

"Trying to atone for your sins, you mean?"

"No! _Merlin_, Weasel, most brothers would be effin' _grateful_ for - "

Hermione cut in, annoyed with Ron. "Just give her your stupid cloak! Ron, shut up. And Malfoy, don't try to be a martyr for this, either."

"I'm not," protested Draco as he shrugged off his outer layer. It was difficult because his coat was stiff with the cold. "Just trying to help . . ." He wrapped Ginny in it. Ron turned around and helped, feeling around to make sure her face and neck were sufficiently swathed. He gently tucked her stiff fingers into her sleeves and tightened her inner cloak before buttoning Draco's.

"Thanks," said Ron gruffly after a while.

"You're welcome."

"You know," said Hermione in an annoyingly observant voice, "you've been very un-Malfoyish this entire time."

"I've been very what?"

"Un-Malfoyish. Look at you, you've given up your own coat for the girl you slapped last week! _And_ you've only complained a couple times about being out here with three Gryffindors. I'd have expected you to kill yourself – or us – by now."

Draco thought this over. "I'd have expected that, too," he said slowly.

Hermione waited for the second clause, but none came. "_But_?" she prompted.

" . . . _But_ it isn't all that bad," he finished reluctantly. "I mean, as far as death experiences go, this is actually quite preferable to the ones we've learned about in Binns' class."

" 'Death experience?' Malfoy, we're not dead yet," Ron pointed out.

"_Bits_ of me _feel_ dead. I'm sure I've got frostbite. But really, once you get all numb like this, it's not so bad 'cause you can't feel anything, obviously. And it isn't painful to talk, not yet anyway - "

He was interrupted by a small moan. He tensed, then realized it had come from _right in front of him_. "Ginny!" he cried out.

Her head lolled back onto his chest. "You smell really good," she said in a slurred sort of voice, obviously still half-asleep.

****

Meanwhile . . .

Harry burst into Dumbledore's office after he had correctly guessed the password on his third try ("Watermelon Pop Rocks"). "Professor Dumbledore!" he yelled.

"Goodness, what _is_ it, Harry?" Dumbledore grumbled from where he sat at his desk, only a few feet from Harry. His entire office was littered with maps and bits of parchment. "I'm a bit busy here, planning this great big battle between the forces of good and evil – what is it, did you have another bad dream?"

"_No_," said Harry vehemently. He slammed his Marauder's Map onto Dumbledore's desk. "_Look_," he spat, pointing rather savagely at the four dots on the Quidditch field. "What is that, an orgy in the snow?" he demanded.

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up in apparent disapproval, but Harry swore he saw his beard twitch. "Great heavens, are they really still out there? In this bad weather?"

"Bad weather!" Harry bellowed. "It's like the Ice Age out there! It's snowed like _seven feet_ in the past couple hours!" A bit of an exaggeration, but it seemed to get the point across.

"Well, they're under Madame Hooch's care, but I see she's in the teacher's lounge still," said Dumbledore, peering closely at the Map. "Pacing around. Hm, probably debating whether or not to tell me she's left four students out there to catch their death in this snowstorm . . ." He stroked his beard, then looked up at Harry. "Truthfully, there is a possibility that we could rescue them, but it would require a very powerful amount of magic."

"Well – _you_ can do it, then!" said Harry hopefully.

The old man smiled. "Not even I have the power to overcome Mother Nature," he said sagely, looking out his dark, frosty window. " . . . But perhaps we can get together a group of teachers to go out there and do this rescue mission." His eyes went back to the fascinating Map. "It seems they're doing just fine at the moment though. Ginny looks quite comfortable in what appears to be Draco Malfoy's lap."

Harry paled and choked. "How soon can we get this group of teachers going?"

****

Under the bleachers . . .

"Ginny!" Hermione squealed from the front. "You're awake! You're alive!"

"Am I?" Ginny groaned, dazed. "Doesn't feel like it." She felt so numb, almost dead. She was beginning to feel warmer, though, thanks to a thick camel hair cloak and – someone's arms?

"Feeling better?" said Draco, against whom Ginny was still leaning.

"Eek!" Ginny shrieked, immediately rocketing forward and away from him. "_Whaddayadoing_?" she squeaked, panicky.

"Jeez, I was just – okay, I was under Hermione's orders, all right? _Zarquon_, the only reason you're not dead is because we're all _hugging_ you - "

"Okay, okay, I get it," Ginny huffed. "I just – fell asleep for a bit." The icy air felt like sharp knives in her lungs as she gasped for breath.

"And almost died in the process," Ron said under his breath.

"None of you – fell asleep?" Ginny could hear the rustle of their cloaks as they all shook their heads. "Well, how long did I nap for?"

"Probably fifteen, twenty minutes," Hermione estimated. "And Malfoy's right, I _told_ him to keep you nice and warm. The boys have more body fat than we do - "

"Hey!" Draco protested.

"It's not like we're Dudleys!" Ron said contemptuously, remembering Harry's cousin.

"Not like we're what?" Draco asked, confounded.

" – and SO Ron's keeping me warm and Draco's, ah, keeping _you_ warm," Hermione finished lamely.

"Why do you get Ron?" Ginny blurted.

"Look, I wasn't – _feeling you up_, Weasel. I'm not a monster," Draco cut in, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"I never said you were," Ginny replied curtly. "I was only _asking_ what Hermione's basis for these decisions were. I mean, you'd think that brother and sister would go together . . . Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter." She struggled with herself for a second. "And I suppose I owe you a thank-you, Malfoy."

Draco thought her voice sounded curiously strained. "Well, then, I suppose I owe you a you're-welcome," he said, rather wittily, or so he thought.

"So, any plans for escape or rescue?" Ginny asked eagerly, ignoring Draco. She was forcing herself to keep awake. "Has the storm died down a bit?"

"If anything, it's gotten worse," Hermione said from the front. She leaned back into Ron, who pulled her closer. The wind continued to scream outside their haven beneath the bleachers. _There's a bit of wind tunnel under here_, Hermione observed. She was chilled to the bone, but Ron helped.

"What about the brooms?" Ginny asked brightly. "We could - "

"We went through this while you were asleep, Weasley," Draco interrupted. "They're buried beneath about a mile of snow by now."

Hermione smiled. "You and Ron really think alike, huh, Ginny?"

"I guess . . ." Ginny conceded. She noted the absence of heavy, warm arms around her waist. "Hey, Malfoy, what happened to keeping me warm?"

Draco was caught by surprise. "I thought you hated it."

"It's not being warm that I hate," she said cryptically. "Well, come on then. And whose coat is this? It's really rather nice."

"It's mine, and why are you talking like that?" Draco demanded. He put his arms loosely around her waist. "You sound like you just inhaled helium."

"I'm _trying_ to keep myself awake so I don't fall asleep and die." Ginny rearranged Draco's arms so they were tighter and, once satisfied, put her own around her brother in front of her. "So, we're just out here, having a hug-fest?"

"Well, we've got to keep warm, and I read somewhere about these people who got lost in the forest and kept themselves alive all night like this." It was, of course, Hermione who said this.

"The forest? Well – are you sure they weren't sleeping like this to keep away werewolves, or something?" Draco asked dubiously.

"Firstly, it was freezing cold in the forest because it was wintertime," Hermione answered, rather sternly, Draco thought. "And secondly, have you _never_ heard of werewolf prejudice? Because you've got a bad case of it, Ferret-fa - "

"Well, I'm _sorry_, Bucky, but _I_ don't go around making friends with dangerous half-breeds, noble though it may be," Draco shot back.

"Did you just call her 'Bucky'?" Ginny asked before Hermione stood up and slapped Draco.

"Uh – yeah," Draco said, albeit uncertainly. He never kept track of his insults.

Ginny snickered. " '_Bucky_'?"

"What?" Draco said, sounding mockingly disappointed.

"You've really got to work on your insults, mate," Ron said from in front of Ginny.

Awkward silence.

"Hey, whatever happened to you singing, Weasel?" Draco asked teasingly.

"I'm not singing for you!" Ron and Ginny said in unison. Hermione laughed.

"Fine. Both of you are old fuddy-duddies," he declared. "What about you, Hermione? Can you sing a good tune?"

"Not for you, I won't," Hermione said, laughing still. "Feel free to break out the yodeling, though, Malfoy."

"I was never very good at yodeling," Draco sighed. He suddenly felt Ginny shiver.

"Is it just me, or did it just get like fifty degrees colder?" she said through chattering teeth.

Everyone paused and checked themselves.

"It _does_ feel a little colder," Hermione agreed. "But that might be because human bodies weren't made for this sort of weather, and our body systems might be breaking down."

"Well, that's good news," said Ron sarcastically.

"Really fabulous," Ginny joined in.

"I think you just made my day," Draco finished. "Let's face it, we're dead. Soooo, who wants to hear horrible death stories? Hey, anybody know about King Edward II? They didn't want to leave any marks on his body, so they shoved a tube up his - "

"No, thank you!" chorused the three Gryffindors at once, all in varied tones of horror.

"Well, we've got to do _something_," Draco said. "We've got to keep talking and moving - at least a little, not so much that we exhaust ourselves – so that we can hold up in case we're rescued. Even though my lungs feel like they're burning and shriveling. Much like King Edward II's - "

"Okay, okay, let's keep talking then," Ron said hurriedly.

"I _am_! As I was saying - "

"Stop it!" Ginny squealed. "You're really awful, Draco, you know that?" Nevertheless, Draco swore he felt her relaxing back into him.

"I know," he said, somewhat dreamily.

Ginny clicked her tongue at his obvious self-love. "So," she said, trying to change the subject, "how long d'you reckon we've been out here?"

"We've probably been under here for an hour, maybe more than an hour," Ron guessed. He paused. "Do you really think they're going to rescue us?"

"Yes," said Hermione without hesitation. "They've got to, or else all four of our families will sue."

"Not to mention we'll all be dead," Draco muttered. Ginny gave a small snort of laughter.

"And besides, it's Dumbledore," Hermione continued. "He'll find a way."

"What's the betting Harry's staring at us in his Map?" Ginny piped up.

"Bet he got a nasty shock," Ron snickered.

"Map?" Draco questioned. Everyone else sucked in their breath, unwilling to share about Harry's prized possession. "Oh, fine," Draco huffed. "This must be some sort of secret Harry Potter Fan Club thing, isn't it?"

"Yes," Ginny replied in syrupy tones of sarcasm. "Since he has one, and all."

"Doesn't he?"

"Not that I know of."

"Hmm, then there must not _be_ one, since you'd have been its president a long time ago," Draco mused. He distinctly felt Ginny trying to elbow him in the stomach, but her stiff cloaks prohibited her movements. "Nice try, Weasel."

Ron's mind, though slowed by the cold, began to pick up on this. Why was he suddenly calling her Weasel? He remembered Draco crying out 'Ginny' when she was out cold. He really did sound panicked then, honestly concerned. Well. _That_ was something to think about. Obviously Malfoy didn't want to admit he was actually concerned about a fellow human being because - _gasp_ - that would mean he actually had a heart!

"When you say Weasel," Hermione began, "do you mean Ron or Ginny? I mean, for future reference."

"Whoever's annoying me at the moment," Draco drawled, smirking even though no one could see.

"Okay, you guys, I'm really cold now," Ginny broke in. "I'm trying to keep up with you lot but I'm seriously freezing my butt off and I can't feel anything. Even with Malfoy draped over me like this."

"Do you think we should try a different formation?" Hermione piped up. "I mean, this isn't exactly ideal, is it? In a single-file line? Why don't we _all_ share each others' body heat, get back into our small circle, or something."

"Not sure I can move," Ginny murmured.

"Well, let's all crowd around you, then, since you're the one that's suffering the most," Hermione ordered.

Ginny found herself surrounded by the other three. Draco had moved slightly to the left, his arms still around her. Ron moved backwards to her right, and Hermione turned completely around and was facing her.

"You know," said Hermione as she inched forward, trying not to bang into anyone, "you'd think someone would be out looking for us by now." The four students scooted towards each other, grateful for the new sources of heat. It was socially uncomfortable but physically ideal.

"I thought you said not even magic can conquer nature, or something?" Draco remembered.

"Well, yes, but surely some of the teachers combined could summon up enough magic to at least make a rescue mission. And if Harry's using his brains and brings out the Map, it should be easy, right?" Hermione had begun to worry. Panic had begun to set in when she discovered she could feel tiny icicles on the inside of her nostrils.

"I told you, we're going to die," Draco said bluntly.

"You really think that?" Ron couldn't understand Draco's cynicism.

"Well, as of now, yes," Draco replied, scooting a little closer to who he thought was Hermione. It didn't hit back when his knee hit hers, so he assumed it was indeed Hermione.

"And to think," Ron said sadly, "my last words could be 'You're a butthead, Malfoy!' "

Ginny giggled in spite of herself.

Hermione suddenly fell into a depressed, hopeless mood. "Ron," she said in a serious voice.

"What?" He figured she was going to get on his case about saying 'butthead'.

Hermione took a deep breath, then - to everyone's surprise - burst into the longest heartfelt apology anyone had ever heard. "I really don't want to die – or even go on living – holding a grudge against you. I know we're kind of back to normal now, but – that fight in the hall, I really didn't mean what I said to you. It was cruel, and it was thoughtless, and I know I've apologized to you before, but I know you're still mad at me."

Ron could say nothing. He was flabbergasted at Hermione's sudden mood change.

"And," Hermione continued, "I can understand if you can't forgive me because the things I said are unforgivable. But if we're really going to die, I couldn't stand dying without knowing I at least apologized to you once more."

Draco's mouth had fallen agape at Hermione's sudden outpouring. Ginny, too, was nothing short of extremely surprised.

Ron cleared his throat. "Hermione, I - I forgive you," he said simply. "And I'm sorry I didn't sooner, I just . . . I don't know. And I'm sorry for whatever I said, too." It seemed as though a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He felt much better despite the fact that his toes had most likely fallen off in his boots.

Hermione was suddenly flushed with warmth. "Oh, it doesn't matter, I don't even remember what you said to me. Oh, Ron, thank you!" She leaned over and hugged Draco.

"Hey!" Draco yelped.

"Oh – sorry!" Hermione snapped her arms back, then flung them at Ron, who was still shell-shocked. He hugged her awkwardly back. When she finally released, he kept one arm around her waist, under the pretense of keeping her warm. Or so he told himself.

Hermione sniffled. "I'm glad that's cleared up. My conscience is clean. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Draco said, finding his voice again.

"Er, yeah." She flicked a stray, frozen tear off her face. She could imagine the pretty purple her cheeks must be and the lovely shade of lilac her chapped lips were. "When we get closer to death maybe I'll, uh, clean it completely."

Draco raised a frosty eyebrow.

Ron was still reeling from what had just happened. He was never very good at emotional stuff and took a long time recovering.

Ginny buried her face in her coat sleeves – well, Draco's coat sleeves – partly because her nose was threatening to jump ship, and partly because she was feeling guilty and obligated all at the same time.

If Hermione could apologize like that, then certainly she could! She needed to apologize to Draco for all the nasty things she'd said. It was his fault, mostly, for slapping her; but still . . .

"Malfoy . . ." she began.

"What?" he said back, preparing himself for another outpouring of emotion to match Hermione's.

But Ginny chickened out at the last minute. "Do you want your coat back?" she asked lamely. _Dang it! I'm such a weiner._

Draco was a little taken aback, wondering if there was something else meant by the question. Girls were weird that way, hiding bucketfuls of emotion in questions about coats. "Er, no, you can keep it. I don't need it," he replied awkwardly. "Heaven forbid you fall asleep again."

Ginny wasn't entirely certain that he was kidding. "Yeah, I'll probably die if I do," she sighed. She was serious. "But you're really sure? I mean – you've got a sweater on or something, right?"

Why was she suddenly so concerned with his clothes? Draco's eyes widened despite himself as he tried to extinguish the first thought that popped into his dirty mind. "Uh, yeah, I've got about five on, actually. I bundled up a bit."

"A _bit_?" Ron snorted.

Ginny rearranged her legs, tucking her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her own arms around herself, over Draco's.

Draco was surprised at this small action, but felt oddly comforted. He suddenly realized how very close he was to the girl, and with that realization came his conscience's orders. He _had_ to apologize for slapping her, or else he couldn't live with himself. He had to, sometime tonight. Preferably before their snowy demise.

"Ginny . . ." he began.

****

A/N: Bit of a long one, at least compared to my other chapters. Hopefully it wasn't boring. I can't ever tell if my writing is boring or not**. Would anyone like to be an all-purpose FanFiction preview/beta reader **so they can criticize my work and tell me what parts they like/hate/want to plagiarize (as if)??? That would be a grrrreat favor if anyone wants to take a little time. If this sounds like something you'd be interested in doing, please leave me a note in a review or email me and we can work something out! ("We can work it out, we can work it oouut . . .")

"Zarquon" isn't mine, it belongs to Douglas Adams, who is only the funniest and cleverest sci-fi writer ever. Someday I'll write a story in the _Hitchhiker_ section of fanfiction.

****

Replies to Reviewers:

Storymind: Yeah, I had to get Harry's POV in there too. I'm not very good at heart-to-hearts but as long as they end mushily it works for me. :) Kisses coming soon. I want to keep the dialogue/action semi-realistic . . . OK, so I haven't really, but oh well. ;)

****

Legolas-is-to-hot-4-u: Oh, man, Legolas is too hot for _everybody_. ("I'm . . . too sexy for my shirt . . .") I think I love him. Then again, so does half the world . . . Yeah, Harry's got a rather overactive imagination! Who knew?!

Thanks to both for reviewing! You're my heroes! 3 3 3


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